✓ WICKED VOWS| JAKE (Book II )

42- Haunting Carnal Desires

Ana's pov

That night I was too dazed, lost in a fog of confusion, to feel anything but those two emotions. Now, after everything that has gone down this week, it's rage simmering just beneath the surface. It's not him alone whom I'm enraged at—no, I am incensed with myself for getting caught up in something that I know could never be more than a momentary madness. I was right to think that everything after Jake would be a hollow void, sucked dry of color, drained of life. He used me; I used him. Yet here I am, still greedy for more, consumed by some dark hunger that refuses to die. He's like poison in my veins, spreading slowly, sinking deeper under my skin, seeping into my very blood.

Since that night, nothing has quite gotten the adrenaline pumping through my body as when Jake claimed me. We have succumbed to each other twice more in the last week since Sin and my twin left England again. With every meeting of our bodies, I am left gasping, suffocating from the intensity of our dark, twisted bodies. Each time, the yearning becomes a little more ravenous.

Both Sin and Jake wear their silences as if they were the same, but there's nothing passive about either of them. An entire world could boil under that façade, which we keep hidden—hidden as in secretive, ours alone. Jake is nothing like Sin. Where Sin is fueled by his own chaos, a psychopathic need to unleash every thought in his mind, Jake is different. He speaks little, his silence more powerful, more dangerous. And in that silence, it is like I feel the tension coiling between us, a dark force pulling us together, even as it threatens to tear us apart.

"And do you believe that lying low until such a time when we're able to draw the culprit actually closer is the best course of action? Why?" Terence's voice cut the tranquillity in the backyard, we had just returned from the USA, flush with a new drug deal, and straight into a heated debate on what to do next. It was skepticism one could read from his tone, but deeper down was a yearning for bloodshed, a darkness to rival my very own.

"I'm prepared to grant him a false opening," I said placidly, but the tension was building between us like static electricity. "I'm going to hit him before the cocky son of a bitch knows what's happened."

"Great scheme, but?" Terry's eyes flicked sharp and fast around me, finally focusing on that stableman who dared me to grin and wave. The casual gesture brought a dark glint to Terry's gaze. Without a word, he took his weapon from his jeans; the sound of the breaking safety was amplified by the room's oppressive silence. Laying it on the table was nothing but a silent command for the fool to disappear. The man's smile faltered, and with a muttered excuse, he retreated apace.

"I'll feed him the false information through your channels, Terry," I continued low and deliberate in my explanation. "A proposition too good for him to pass up—I need him here in London." I was seeing Terry smirk at my words and savor the whole thing. "We'll circulate rumors about Renard's men here in London; it will seem like they want to betray him. False intel seeps through the ears of those close to Renard, knowing it will reach him, strike paranoia into him, and—"

"Give Renard the impression that there's an opening in our surveillance net, something that makes him feel safe enough to come out of hiding, to reconnect with his network, which we've kept under relentless watch."

"I like the way your mind works," Terry muttered, but there was a darkness in his eyes as he leaned closer before I voiced again," But I'll need the downfall of the Clerkenwell Crime Syndicate." His eyebrows lifted in the challenge, a silent dare. "Your downfall."

"I need you to create a rift," The tension between us is palpable. "Start a rumor that one of your key allies or lieutenants is planning to defect or has been compromised. This will lure Renard, and make him believe he can exploit this supposed division. He might even reach out to the traitor, giving us the perfect chance to intercept and manipulate those communications. Then, stage a temporary retreat from a contested area in or near London, pull back security just enough to suggest we're weakened by internal strife. Make it seem like we're distracted, and vulnerable, and Renard will see this as his golden opportunity."